Full Circle

by Linden Carroll

  They were enjoying a coffee on one of their rare get-togethers and Dan’s rambunctious enthusiasm was almost the cause of his being thrown out of the café as he was asked to lower his voice.

  “Do you know Alex that David Pitt is a qualified doctor as well? He opened his own medical practice in Euston shortly after the war. He makes no distinction between black and white and always extends the same courtesy and compassion for everybody. He’s given his life over to fighting for racial harmony on top of all his other attributes. The man’s a walking miracle.”

  Dan had managed to get into a government position with the National Health Service and his commitment to better himself had proved an uphill battle, given the horrendous increase in violence and antagonism towards newcomers of his culture, coupled with the ever changing government agenda regarding immigration. Since British Citizenship had been granted to the colonies, the country was ill equipped to deal with the many thousands of newcomers to the island causing major governmental divide. Finally, in 1962 the inception of the Commonwealth Immigrants Act resulted in the restriction of non-white commonwealth immigrants from entering Britain without a government issued pass.

  The Notting Hill Riot of several years later was so huge, it attracted media attention and racialism was rampant with major rumblings that the immigrants were taking all the employment, when in fact most of them were living below the poverty line in the worst areas of the country and renegaded to the lowest class of British culture. Following the riot, a major tear down of the run-down area of London took place in an effort to rejuvenate and infuse new life. It was a time of major political and social reform.

  Alex and Dan had been part of the crowd in the subsequent 1968 Notting Hill carnival which was born to promote peace and miraculously it did, bringing about a lull in the animosity between the different cultural groups. Both men were remembering their first major family outing after the war in 1951 when, as young teens, they went to the Festival of Britain; that too was instigated to boost morale during the post-war years.

  Part of the land-based festival had included a floating exhibition, the festival ship HMS Campania which had been fitted out and decorated as an extension of the main show stopping at towns along the coast, staying in each port for any time up to two weeks.

  “Pity that the festival site was torn down later following a change in government and viewpoint,” Dan pointed out, adding, “although it did make a good profit for the few months it ran and really gave Londoners a boost.”

  “Yes, it certainly did but isn’t it ironical?” and Alex became very serious at this point, “That this same ship, following its service during the war should have been utilised as a festival ship to lift the spirits of a recovering race but instead the very next year it’s re-fitted yet again, only this time to test an atom bomb off the Australian coast, potentially promoting more warfare. Talk about a dichotomy in ideals. You’d think there had been enough killing; sad too that the ship was scrapped a few years later.”

  “Yes it was and talking about bombs, what about the hydrogen bomb activated a few years after that off Christmas Island? It would seem there’s no end to it, although hasn’t it been great that there’s been so much kicking and screaming in favour of nuclear disarmament? My God, the 50s were really something. We’ve certainly seen some changes over the years.”

  Alex agreed as Dan got launched yet again on another thoroughly stimulating topic.

  “London is really moving forward now in its rebuilding. What do you think about The Barbican? It’s that huge office development, apparently the biggest construction project ever in Europe. Built in 1969 with housing, a school, museum and art centre. It’s so massive they reckon it won’t be completed until 1975.”

  “No, I haven’t seen it yet but I’m very impressed with the rebuilding programs generally and especially the movement to save the beautiful old Victorian houses. They’ve been demolishing them left right and centre because everybody thought they were ugly and the trend with the ones they have saved is to split them up into flats, restaurants and other business ventures, which I suppose is better than demolishing them altogether. The little terraces are quite attractive though, the message finally got through that these Victorians have a durability that the modern buildings lack and it’s one way of dealing with the massive influx of people into the area.”

  Dan looked at his watch. “Oh hell, look at the time, we’d better break this up.”

  There was a mad scuffle to gather their knapsacks, etc. The friends hugged each other and shook hands.

  “Until the next time Alex, stay in touch.”

  “Will do.”

  Another hug and the friends parted.

  ****

  Alex sat by the river idly spinning stones across its surface, being an expert and always managing to get six or more jumps across its surface even on stormy days when the water was rough and angry.

  How he had grown to love the Thames, knowing it with an intimacy to which few were privy, developing a deep understanding of all its moods and tantrums, likening its volatility to his own emotional state; up and down, up and down always craving the unobtainable, always pushing himself almost beyond endurance to achieve excellence either in work or play.

  It was hard to imagine that the river had been officially declared dead, devoid of life but following the war and improvements to London’s sewage system, life was returning of its own volition. Also, in these latter years, there had been much more environmental awareness regarding the use of pesticides and other toxics. Alex too nurtured his ever-growing interest and knowledge of natural history and evolution, and was pleased to see that tighter regulations were being put in place in an attempt to protect the environment.

  Today the river played games with his senses, the air hummed with the sounds of a thousand birds competing with the humming of the rushing water making its way to the North Sea. In the city centre, the Thames was incarcerated by its borders of concrete but further out of town it harboured a multitude of wildlife on its lush banks, all grappling for space amongst the reeds and grasses. He smiled as he watched the antics of a river vole and marvelled at the plumage of the kingfisher, which had even managed to adapt and become resilient to city life and human abominations inflicted on nature. He’d been fascinated to see them nesting in concrete and pipes in and around the Thames; their beauty contrasting sharply with the man-made ugliness of the confines of the river.

  A great crested grebe adorned in his exotic cloak strutted around; his gait ridiculous with legs being set too far back on his body and definitely not designed for walking. He was not to be put off; however and was magnificent as he flaunted his good looks while he still had them, probably knowing that come winter his attire would be renegaded back to drab winter garb.

  The wind began to pick up; the river appearing to flow faster than the educated guess of eight miles per hour. His mood echoed the change and again the restless that always plagued him returned with a vengeance. He thought again of the last time he had seen Amy, how exquisitely beautiful she was. He likened her to a fairy princess he had seen adorning an exclusive Christmas arrangement in one of the classy London stores, when he was a boy. He had stared in awe through the window at the vision of loveliness. When was he going to accept that not only was she lost to him but their daughter as well? He indulged himself in a moment of fantasy dreaming of a life they could have had, which they had lived for such a short time and then lost.

  The stones were hitting the water with growing ferocity and all-consuming regret engulfed him.

  “God, I’m drowning. I’ve got to make changes, get away from here get my head straight. I’ve been on the tugs up and down the Thames for twenty odd years and yep it’s time for change, I’ll take up the option of the job in the West Country.”

  His voice was hoarse, he was shouting but there was no one to hear; his eyes burned with emergent tears but there was no one to see and as he stumbled up the narrow overgrown path, his beloved riv
er laughed merrily in his wake.

  Chapter 11

  The West Country

  The flat was perfect; exactly what Alex had been looking for and more with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, spacious kitchen with good dining annex and to top it off, a study with a great balcony leading off to the most spectacular view of the ocean. St. Ives had been his favoured location and to have found such a gem was astounding. The owners had asked him if he would consider a short-term rental and mentioned that they would be selling in the near future. Alex had been looking for an investment property and everything about this accommodation fitted the bill. He would have no trouble renting it out or using it as a vacation spot himself if he left the west coast. He knew Bob would just love it as well.

  “I think it would work to our mutual advantage if you’d allow me the first offer,” he had conferred to the owners. “A lot more lucrative don’t you think without any of the extraneous costs in fees and such? The place is a good fit for my needs.” He didn’t want to appear too effusive about the prospect as he felt it might reflect on their offering price.

  Alex had not wasted his time over the years and was now at the top of his field on the tugs. Having lived frugally, he had managed to save a substantial sum. The owners had obviously reflected on the savings involved with a private sale arrangement and his opportunity to purchase came sooner than he expected; a mere two months after the commencement of his tenancy and furthermore, his offer was accepted with no quibbling. He was ecstatic. He knew a good investment when he saw one and this was certainly one.

  Located in one of the most desirable tourist areas, St. Ives was a picturesque port offering a safe, sheltered harbour although its wreck history was long standing. Many vessels attempting the western approach had been claimed by treacherous seas over the years; nevertheless, the small boating community boasted immense charm and beauty guaranteeing the tourist a fabulous stay in the West Country. Cobbled streets bordered by quaint stone dwellings and businesses packed in wall to wall constituted a regular cornucopia of delights for everybody. The area had always been known as a popular drinking venue being littered with dozens of charming little pubs steeped in history, the most prominent being over 700 years old. Alex was very interested in art and had promised himself visits to the arts club unchanged in 100 years and the museum remodelled from the original home and studio of one of the local artists. The entire area was an artist’s dream with its light reflecting qualities; attracting them from all over the world and introducing art colonies to the area. Yes, he had definitely made a wise judgement call in coming to this awe-inspiring place.

  ****

  Alex’s decision to leave London and the Thames had also been influenced by the regressing commercial tug and barge industry due to the inception of container traffic, triggering a decline in the dockyards. He was very well positioned to take up his new employment and make the easy transition to operating the different types of tugs, as he had always been big on updating his skills in keeping with economical and technical changes in the industry. Over the years, he had demonstrated excellent crew management abilities specifically in safety management systems on each of the vessels for which he was responsible. Safety practice was a given and second nature to his crew members. He never allowed inexperienced personnel to be exposed to high risk situations without extensive training and constant supervision, which was meticulously logged and included lifesaving and firefighting.

  His new employer had snapped him up and Alex was thrilled to take on new challenges and be involved in many diverse marine roles such as search and recovery, obstruction and waste removal and a new venture for him, that of commercial diving projects, the latter of particular interest in the event of him ever running his own tour boat. Diving equipment would be a prerequisite on any cruiser he owned in the future, he had already decided. The position he had accepted would encompass the general radius of the Land’s End Peninsula, a treacherous coastline to which the adventurous Alex was drawn like the moth to the flame.

  ****

  What a great bunch his new crew members were. They gave him not only a royal welcome the first time he boarded the vessel for his introductory tour but also insisted on holding a bash on the wharf in one of the more ancient pubs as an official welcome to the team.

  Grabbing a paper on his way down the wharf, he had made a point of getting there early so that he could relax before any of the group arrived and was enjoying a glass of the local Cornish ale when an article on David Pitt caught his eye in the newspaper. The politician had been accepted that year into the House of Lords upon the recommendation of the Labour Party leader Harold Wilson, history in the making. This was the beginning of non-whites in parliament. Have to give Dan a call later, he thought, of course he obviously would know about this as well. Glancing up from the paper, he was fascinated by the pub and surroundings and could almost picture smugglers of hundreds of years ago making their way stealthily up the wharf with whatever spoils they could haul up the steep incline. Usually their treasures would be hidden in caves up and down the Cornish coast for pick up when the conditions allowed.

  The day was perfect with the sea casting its cerulean waters softly up and down the picturesque bay. Jack hailed him from the doorway. He was herding the rest of Alex’s work colleagues ahead and they were in high spirits laughing and joking. Alex had taken to Jack immediately on their first meeting. He was a quiet, easy going man, one of those solid individuals who, once your friend, always your friend. Very soon the room was filled with their comradery. Appetites finally appeased, they all raised their glasses and toasted Alex, welcoming him once again to the team. Later they wrapped up the splendiferous evening with a dart tournament, which Jack and Alex’s team won hands down. Permanent teams were established that night and this sport was to be their favourite recreation. Each player took the game very seriously looking forward with huge enthusiasm to their next ‘play off’.

  One evening after their shift was finished, Jack slapped Alex on the back.

  “When are you coming home to meet the family then, Judy keeps asking me? She wondered if you are free on Saturday night about 7:00 and would like to come for dinner.”

  “Yes, I would and thanks for asking me I would really like that.” Alex emphasised. “What kind of wine does Judy like?”

  “Oh any sweet white, she’s not well up on the names or years for that matter. There are some really good local wines, I don’t think you can go wrong with any of them if you really want to pick one up, although it really isn’t necessary, you’re our guest.”

  “Well, I would like to and thanks again for the invite.”

  The following Saturday saw Alex grasping a bunch of flowers and wine being greeted by the loveliest Cornish woman one could imagine. She was everything he expected, hugging him warmly in welcome and urging him into the little stone cottage filled with the wonderful aroma of home cooking. His mouth was watering even before he sat down. Hand in hand, two little children came into the room and their mother introduced them.

  Walking away that night, Alex felt envy for the first time in his life. He had always been a firm believer in getting what he wanted for himself but he had messed up and his heart cried out for what Jack had in his loving little family.

  ****

  Alex had been with his company for a year only and knew it was really a bit early to be thinking of taking a break back in London but Dan was getting married to Rosalind. He was to be best man, an occasion that he couldn’t miss as Dan had been and still was his lifelong friend. Alex had offered the couple his flat for a few days after the wedding and they were over the moon about it, particularly when they saw the photos and what the area had to offer for a perfect vacation and honeymoon.

  He was staying with Bob for his short visit and it was just as if he’d never left. Both settled right back into the same routine as when they shared accommodation previously. It was Alex’s first morning and they were enjoying one of their two-hour brunches.

&n
bsp; “By the way Bob, how’s old Fred doing? You haven’t mentioned him yet.”

  He saw Bob’s face cloud over.

  “Poor old Fred’s gone. I didn’t want to mention it as you’ve just got here and it was only a couple of weeks ago.”

  There were a few moments of silence as both men contemplated the situation.

  “Well, he had a good run given all the physical problems and he never let it get him down, always happy it seemed. What happened?”

  “The doc reckoned he had a brain aneurysm, it was very quick.”

  “He was one of the best was old Fred.”

  Alex was still trying to get used to the idea.

  “Bob,” he was looking very serious and Bob could see the question he’d been skirting around was imminent.

  “So have you seen Amy?”

  “Well, she has been working at Sid’s place since you went to the West Country. She’s a huge asset to him because she knows the business having spent so much time with Frank. She’s very private now, Alex, not half as gregarious as she used to be, very quiet and keeps herself to herself. Sid is just glad she’s helping him out.”

  “Does she know I’m back in the city for a bit?”

  “Well, I did mention you were coming home to Sid and Elsie and, by the way, they’re really looking forward to seeing you and catching up on all your news. So yes, in answer to your question, I’d say there’s a good chance one or the other told her about your visit. Alex, I’d let sleeping dogs lie if I were you. It’s been a long time and it looks like Amy has decided to go it alone. She doesn’t encourage anybody around her now. She’s not the same person. Sid hasn’t ever seen a man friend or any friends for that matter. I think after all this time if she was going to make her move towards you she would have done so by now. I’m sorry to be so blunt lad but I’ve watched you wear your heart on your sleeve long enough and it’s time you got on with your life, apart from killing yourself with work.”